


Touch

by thenakednymph



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Cuddles, Fluff, Keith (Voltron) Needs a Hug, M/M, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Keith (Voltron), flangst, like implied breath play and a little bdsm, teen for some adulty themes, what the fuck is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 09:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16890084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenakednymph/pseuds/thenakednymph
Summary: Keith is horribly touch-starved and Lance finds him in the middle of the night, unable to chase the itch from his skin. There are cuddles.





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Touch deprived Keith is my jam.

Keith is standing in front of one of the bay windows of the castle, staring at the light reflecting off the planet they’re orbiting. It’s uninhabited and a safe enough place for them to stop for the moment. Even dead Keith can’t help thinking it’s beautiful, a deep grey and swirling blue. Threads of white are interspersed between the other colors, like froth on the arctic sea.

In spite of the beauty of the planet before him Keith can’t focus. He can’t get rid of the itch under his skin, the burning, the heat stretching him thin and dry. It will not stop. His hands run up and down his bare arms. It feels like static, crackling over his skin, making his hair stand on end. The touch helps but it’s not enough to chase the feeling away, not what he needs. He doesn’t know what it is, why it won’t go away, can’t make it stop. It’s only getting worse.

“Keith?”

His fingers tighten on his arms and he turns, eyes wide and dark, breath catching. Static buzzes in his ears.

“What’s going on?” Lance changes directions from his nightly insomnia induced wandering and steps into the room. Keith can’t speak around the stranglehold the itch has on him. Lance crosses the room and all Keith can do is watch him come, nails biting into his arms. Afraid he’ll stay, afraid he’ll leave.

“Hey…” Lance reaches out a hand, touching his arm and that static under Keith’s skin bursts into starlight, a rush of pleasure, relief washing through him. His eyes roll into the back of his head. He doesn’t know he’s groaning until Lance pulls away, eyes wide. And then the pain is settling back in again, bone deep and aching and he would do anything to make it stop.

It feels like flying for a brief moment when Lance touches him and then he’s falling, body shattering against the ground and he’s crying, a pained noise clawing its way out of his throat as he holds himself all the tighter, knees almost giving way beneath him.

Lance’s eyes are wide, hand still hovering in the air between them.

“Jesus Keith, when was the last time somebody _touched_ you.” And then his hands are back, firm and warm against Keith’s bare skin and he’s keening, high and thready, needy, heat rolling through him.

Lance’s palms stroke down his arms and Keith’s knees shake as he leans into the touch, heavy with want. Lance steps closer to keep him from falling, his breath catching as his hands press into Keith’s bare chest. Keith is sagging into him, crossed arms going slack and heavy and he sways dangerously.

“Okay,” Lance whispers, “okay.” He slips out of his robe one arm at a time, keeping a hand on Keith to hold him upright as he does. Dropping it to the floor he strips out of his shirt.

Keith is still shivering in waves, but he’s watching Lance warily as he pulls off the shirt, his hair fluffing as it catches on the collar. He sees Keith watching him, want still on his face, his beautiful eyes wide and dark but also wary.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Lance says softly. “Come here.” His hand hovers just above Keith’s skin but not touching. Keith’s breathing is ragged, his stomach fluttering but he steps into Lance’s hands.

The moment their skin touches he gasps. Lance drags his hands slowly up and over Keith’s arms, his neck, the sides of his face. And then he’s pushing his fingers through Keith’s hair, scraping his nails over his scalp and back down over his skull.

Keith tips his head back as Lance’s fingers slide through his hair and down his back. He’s keening again, a low whine in the back of his throat and when Lance draws him down to the floor he goes willingly. He’s pliant under Lance’s hands, letting Lance maneuver him until his back is pressed to Lance’s chest, stars behind his eyes every time their skin touches.

He’s bracketed between Lance’s legs, the heat of him sinking through the pain Keith can’t shake, soothing away the burn. Lance never stops moving against him, his hands, his legs, the rise and fall of his chest shifting at Keith’s back.

“It’s okay.” Lance runs a hand down Keith’s hair, pulling it back from the side of his face, pressing his cheek to Keith’s.

“You’re okay.” He wraps his arms around Keith, tangling them together, holding him tight. He shudders in Lance’s arms, shaking apart, the pressure of his fingers dimpling Lance’s skin where he clings to him.

“I don’t know what’s wrong.” His voice comes out like gravel, the knot in his throat loosening just enough for him to get the words out.

Lance holds him tighter, Keith folding into the embrace and he can breathe again.

“Thank you,” Lance says softly, tucking his chin over Keith’s shoulder. “For letting me help.” He presses the inside of his calf against Keith’s, stroking their legs together. He kisses Keith’s shoulder. “I just want to help.”

Keith’s head tips back, baring his throat and Lance can’t help it, he slots his mouth over Keith’s pulse, one hand stroking up over his chest. He pulls away when Keith gasps, back arching against him with a whine.

“Sorry,” Lance rasps, fingers curling, nails dragging over Keith’s bare skin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

Keith is panting, sweat dappling his skin as he breathes. “Don’t stop.”

Lance groans at the sound of his voice, burying his face against Keith’s throat, kissing him again. Keith goes loose and pliant as Lance works his tongue over his pulse, dragging his teeth over the skin, sucking a bruise into the tender spot. Keith is whining, squirming in his arms and Lance locks him in place, trapping Keith’s arms against his chest with his own, pinning him there. He curls around him posessively, teeth sinking into the juncture of Keith’s neck and shoulder. Keith’s toes curl, nails scraping over Lance’s arms in a hard drag.

Lance pulls one hand free, sliding it up over Keith’s exposed throat, just holding it there, feeling him breathe, the hammering of his pulse and Keith’s breathing goes jagged and shallow. Lance sucks another kiss into Keith’s throat, under his jaw. He presses the flat of his tongue over the bruise a moment later, soothing it.

He pulls his mouth back with a wet pop, realizing what he’s doing and forces his hands to relax.

He peppers small kisses in apology to Keith’s cheek, his ear, the side of his jaw, anywhere he can reach.

The tension in Keith spirals loose under Lance until he’s weak with it, barely able to sit up on his own. Lance continues petting him, his touch gentle and the room stops spinning, the static under Keith’s skin falling silent at the attention.

“‘m sorry,” Lance rasps, trying to stroke away the bruises and scratches he’s left behind. “I didn’t mean…” He ducks his head in embarrassment, hiding his flushed face in Keith’s dark hair, breathing him in.

Keith shakes his head, still melted against Lance’s chest.

“‘s’okay,” he breathes, his body heavy and he feels more grounded in himself than he ever has. His lips are parted and Lance has never wanted to kiss him more.

“Helped,” he breathes. “Nice to feel wanted.”

Lance runs a knuckle gently down Keith’s cheek.

“You okay?” His hand settles over Keith’s heart, chest rising and falling under his palm, pulse steady.

“Don’t know.” He covers Lance’s hand with his own, loosely cradling it and their fingers slide together. “Better.”

Lance’s nose skims along Keith’s cheek, pressing a kiss there.

“Tell me next time.” His lips brush along Keith’s skin as he speaks. “You know I care about you right? I just-” He sighs, afraid to let go, afraid to admit just how much he cares, how much he’s always cared.

Keith tips his head into Lance’s, lifting one hand to brush clumsy fingers over his hair.

“I know.”

Something warm curls behind Lance’s ribs and he runs a hand down Keith’s arm because he can, because Keith is letting him.

“Okay.”

They breathe in tandem, the cold floor seeping in through their clothing, neither one willing to get up just yet.

“How did you know?” Keith finally asks and he sounds stronger than before. He can feel Lance shrug behind him.

“Lucky guess.”

He nods, eyes closed. “Very lucky.” Keith’s voice drops a register without meaning to. “But how did you _know._ ” Lance’s fingers draw idle patterns on Keith’s skin for a moment before he answers.

“Humans need touch. It’s the only sense we can’t live without.” He shifts behind Keith, turning them so he can lean against the window. “Did you know that?”

“No.”

Lance nods. “We’re social creatures. And I’m just spitballing here, but if the Galra are giant space cats and theoretically behave like Earth cats, then they’re social by nature too.

“They need touch just as much as humans. I think…” He chews his lip for a moment and when he speaks he chooses his words carefully. “It’s possible that because you’re half Galra you need touch more than most. And you’ve been heavily deprived of it for _years_.” His hands never stop dancing across Keith’s skin.

“I just guessed,” he says softly.

Keith hums thoughtfully. “Did you just call me half cat?”

Lance flushes and sputters, trying to pull away but he’s trapped between the weight of Keith’s body and the window at his back.

“No!”

Keith can’t help the tired, amused smile as he hums low in the back of his throat, simulating a purr as best he can, just to tease.

“Pretty sure you did.”

“Want me to scratch you behind the ears and tell you you’re a good boy too?” he snaps, cheeks still hot.

Keith flushes, his heart skipping in his chest, surprised at how warm that makes him feel.

“Maybe.” He can hear Lance swallow but he doesn’t answer, fingers twitching under Keith’s hand.

They’re quiet for a long time, Lance slowly relaxing again. He works up the courage to run his fingers through Keith’s hair, all but petting him and Keith decides not to tease him for it for fear he’ll stop.

Between the silence and the feel of Lance’s nails on his scalp Keith begins to drift.

“Anybody could be here you know,” Lance says into the silence what feels like hours later and he sounds vulnerable. “It doesn’t have to be me.”

Keith’s eyes flutter open, sleep weighing on him in the silence.

“Don’t want it to be anyone else,” he slurs tiredly.

“Shiro could probably help.”

Keith makes a face. “Gross.” He feels more than hears Lance laugh, his chest shaking behind him, jostling him. “My brother,” he mumbles grumpily, trying to elbow Lance to get him to stop moving.

“...tryin’ to sleep,” he grumbles, shifting to get more comfortable. Something warm drapes over him and he curls under it, pulling it closer.

“Sorry,” Lance whispers, kissing his hair to hide his smile. Keith can hear his heart skip as he cradles him. “Didn’t know you felt that way,” Lance says softly.

Keith hums. “You were always the one pushing me away,” Keith mumbles, tucking his face into the side of Lance’s neck. His fingers stumble to a stop in Keith’s hair and Keith makes a noise of disappointment, nosing at Lance’s throat to get him to keep going.

Lance’s fingers card through Keith’s hair again after he gets over his stunned surprise. Keith hums in approval, smiling into Lance’s skin.

“Sorry,” Lance apologizes and he’s not sure if it’s for his hand stopping in Keith’s hair or his own stupid behavior. Both probably. “I’m here now.”

Keith nods, soft hair tickling Lance’s cheek. “I know.” He doesn’t think before pressing a kiss to Lance’s throat, feeling him shudder, his breath hitching before Keith snuggles closer.

“Always wanted you,” he whispers, finally letting sleep drag him under.

He falls asleep wrapped up in Lance’s arms, draped under the robe and when he wakes up back in his own bed there’s no doubt in his mind Lance is the one who carried him there.


End file.
